As an eleven year old boy I was totally taken by the movie "The Sword in the Stone." It's the fairy tale of a small (skinny) little boy who's true identity was hidden until he was able to remove the king's sword from the stone. A little skinny boy who is really heir to the King. What an exciting thought for an eleven year old (69 lb.) me. Every time I went to Disneyland I approached the stone (as seen in the picture to your right) but my true identity remained hidden.
This past Sunday was our "Opportunity to Serve" day at Church. A couple times a year we invite our congregation to stick around after church to help with family chores at our church home.
We changed light bulbs, did some gardening, polished pews and woodwork, did major repair on some lighting standards, washed some windows and much more but surprisingly the focus of much of our day's work was spent removing two misplaced posts in the front of the church.
Now this did not seem like much of a job. The post were just 6 foot tall wooden 4x4's which had been put in cement a couple of months ago for the mounting of a sign that was not to be. Removing them was almost an afterthought. "Hey, and by the way, lets pull those post out while we are at it."
Seemed simple enough. To make the job easier someone had the foresight to bring one of those big heavy pointed steel rods you use for breaking up cement or rocks, even big boulders. This was going to be easy.
Now I missed the first part of the job. From what I could tell the removal of the first post was pretty straight forward. The team consisted of the foreman (he had the big steel rod so that makes you the foreman), a couple of young women and a four year old boy. They had the first post out in no time. When I got on the scene things were getting interesting as they were in the process of removing the second post.
Unlike the compliant first post the second post was a stubborn little guy. All the preparation that was done on the first post was repeated for the second. A hole was dug around the post, the big steel rod was used to break off as much of the cement as they could. Now it was time to remove the post. Just pull it out. No luck. Lets try rocking it a bit more. No budge. Let try rocking it a lot. Still the post did not move an inch. By this time others had started to gather around each with their own ideas about how to remove the post.
It seemed easy enough to each new eye. Some thought we just needed a bigger hammer. No. For another, a chain and a big truck. No. We might knock a hole in the building (we had already knocked a hole in the irrigation system). But it looked so easy to each new observer, "why can't they just pull it out."
As the project gathered more attention the problem solving ideas grew more creative. What about tying a rope to it, host the rope over a shoulder and pull it out with brute force? Grunt... Grunt... Grunt. No.
This was getting to the guys by now. This was us against the post. This was becoming a matter of pride. We would prevail.
What about tying four ropes to the post getting people on each rope and wurling ourselves around the post until we twist it out of the ground ("I find wurling always works" said the 14 year old teen who concocted the plan.) The picture of four grown men "wurling" themselves around this little post like a May Day dance was enough to kill this idea.
About now the name of the ancient Greek mathematician, physicist and engineer Archimedes was invoked. "With a long enough lever I can move the world", but apparently Archimedes had never come head to head with our little post, our little immovable object.
By now the ideas were flying. I counted 19 people gathered around this
mythical post that would not be moved when someone quietly suggested that we build a tall scaffolding between the post and the truck, fasten a cable to the post, put the cable over the scaffolding, attach it to the truck and host the post up and out of the ground. This would be collaborator realized what over kill this was almost before he got it out of his mouth. We both smiled.
This went on for nearly an hour. As people finished their jobs they came to observe the spectacle as well as inject their own ideas. What a wonderful day for a preacher with an eye for finding the profound in the ordinary.
As I lay in bed that night I thought of my mythical sword in the stone. I thought how badly I had wanted to be like that little boy in the fairy tale who discovered his greatness and the adventure that would ensue. Then it dawned on me that without ever removing the sword I had discovered my greatness in the knowledge and experience of being a child of God, a rightful heir of all that God had given to God's children and the adventure that I experience as a partner with God.
Then I thought about our experience with our post in the dirt. It was pretty disappointing when it was decided to just cut off the post and cover the stump with dirt. This little post had defeated us all but in the process we had discovered something about ourselves, about our true identity. We are becoming a family, partners in ministry.
As I looked back at the faces gathered around that magical post that afternoon I saw a montage of faces, young and old, east and west, like a beautiful rainbow of God's blessed children inexplicably drawn into the shape of the family of God.
He moves closer to the gilded card table. God does not look up, he is busy with all the Godly things that keeps God so busy. He steps closer and ask God if they can play a hand of poker. God says there is no need, "just head on over to the banquet feast, we have been waiting for you." He moves in closer and with a whisper, "God, you will not believe the cards I'm holding. Can't we play just one hand?" God makes a sweeping jester towards the banquet, "no need, just join the party. It's all prepared for you." The pharisee presses his case, "But I have a hand even you won't believe. Look, the ace of spades - perfect attendance and the king of spades - fasting you know." God places his hand on the hand of the Pharisee, "Your cards are no good here. The house always wins. You know that. Don't play me..." With one last rejected plea the Pharisee turns from the gilded table intent on playing his hand.
